


Letters to the Dead

by schlopreceptacle



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: During Canon, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Letters, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Post-Cell Games Saga, Wishes, tumblr: kakavegeweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 01:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schlopreceptacle/pseuds/schlopreceptacle
Summary: Vegeta slowly learns to cope with Kakarot’s death in the years after the Cell Games.Content warnings for suicidal ideation, suicide stigmaKakavege Week Day 7: Making wishes





	1. Letters

#  Letter #1

You fucking bastard. 

 

#  Letter #2

It’s been two years since you died. 

What are you doing there, in Other World? I wonder this all the time. I wonder what is so goddamn enticing there that you would choose to stay there, rather than come back to Earth. 

You would rather have just left the rest of us behind. 

 

#  Letter #3

Kakarot,

I think of you as my enemy even more now that you’re dead and gone. You were in my life for such a short time, and yet you pushed me further than any other enemy that I’ve encountered. 

If you had someone like that in your life, and they died and willingly decided to stay dead, you’d be pissed off, too. 

Apparently, even my presence was not enough to keep you here on Earth. Was I not enough of a challenge for you? Did it not matter to you that you still owed me a fight, a true opportunity to best you? 

I still can’t ignore how enraged I am that you snatched that chance away from me. It has consumed me for the past three years. At first I couldn’t even train. What was the point? I had lost my chance to surpass you. To kill you. 

But after a few months, I figured out what it is you’re doing up there. You’re training. Getting stronger. I know things work differently there - strength and energy are not quite the same - but if you did come back from the dead only to be stronger than I am, then I may as well end my own useless life at that point. 

Do you know how much time a man has to think after his singular purpose in life is gone? It’s maddening. I train for eighteen hours a day some days. And still I can’t get you out of my head. 

It would be so much easier if  _ I  _ were dead. I hope you’re enjoying taking the easy way out. 

 

#  Letter #4

Kakarot,

I want you to know that I think of you so infrequently now that I can hardly bother to write more than one of these letters per year. But it’s the fourth anniversary of your death, and Bulma keeps feeling the need to remind me about it. 

I’ve spent most of the time leading up to this day avoiding everyone by training in the gravity chamber. Bulma keeps trying to find excuses to get me out of there. She thinks I’m still mourning you, because all I do is train. All I do is train regardless. What else is there to do? 

She doesn’t get it. She’s a human, and certainly not a warrior. That doesn’t bother me, but the fact is that she can’t relate. She’ll never know what it’s like to have that drive. That craving to become stronger, to be the best. 

You knew all about that. 

You were so goddamn pure about everything, though. Had you ever even killed anyone before we met? From the moment you first opened your mouth, I knew you had that weakness. You lacked the blood thirst of a true Saiyan. Perhaps it was something about being raised here on Earth. I do find that this planet seems to dull some of those desires. 

Now I lead an almost-human life - a wife, a child, a home. I train alone most of the day but I also take the opportunity to train my son when I can. 

It’s peaceful. And, quite frankly, it’s easy. You lucked out by ending up where you did. I spent my childhood and adolescence in a constant state of warfare. It was the Saiyan way, of course, but spending the first half of my life as little more than a slave under the rule of a tyrant was not exactly what I would have chosen for myself. 

The life I have now - a life that I have indeed chosen - is boring and simple and unmemorable. I don’t deserve this level of peace one bit. The atrocities I have committed mean that I should have died young and gone directly to Hell. But I accept this life, despite the boredom, because at least it’s better than giving up and turning to death. 

How sad. How sad that your talent, your natural Saiyan abilities, your immense power, could be stifled by something as simple as boredom. 

But that’s not even the saddest part. The saddest part is that I am the strongest I have ever been, and I can’t be the one to kill you. 

 

#  Letter #5

Well, here it is. The fifth anniversary of your death. I know you don’t care about what’s going on with anyone in the living world, since you died and decided not to allow anyone to resurrect you with the Namekian Dragon Balls. But I happen to be finding myself surrounded by these people more often than I would like, and perhaps their lives actually hold some relevancy to me as a result. I guess if you were here, maybe you would actually give a shit about these things. 

Your wife seems to be getting along just fine without you. Your older son, who once had a twinkle of promise, seems to have stopped training altogether. What a shame to waste that Saiyan instinct on a boy who is more interested in reading books and gallivanting with animals. 

Your other son - yes, there’s another one, not that you would know - who has never met his father for reasons already stated, is as numb-skulled and ridiculous looking as you were. You can take that literally, by the way; he looks just like you. However, Trunks has taken a liking to him, so Bulma and I have the unfortunate honor of seeing him at our home on a regular basis. The good news is that Trunks, who I have been training since he was a toddler, has tried to pass down some of his fighting ability to the younger boy. Perhaps this half-breed will actually be half the Saiyan you once were. 

Bulma still talks about you sometimes. I suppose one of the good things about your death is that it gave Bulma and I the chance to become closer. She’s told me all about your various adventures as a child. That’s right, Kakarot - I know more about you than you could even imagine. 

Of course, it doesn’t matter. We’ve all ruled out the possibility of your return. With the Dragon Balls in our possession, and the availability of the Namekian ones as well, death doesn’t seem to have any real staying power. But then we are faced with someone like you - someone so reckless and selfish, choosing the finality of the afterlife rather than seeing all of the potential in himself and the people around him. 

When I was still a member of Frieza’s forces, I once saw another Saiyan battle through his own dismemberment and disembowelment. His entire body was mutilated by his enemy. Yet his mind did not give up until his body bled out and gave up underneath him. I think about that Saiyan still. He was nothing special; I could not even tell you his name. But his fight, his final battle, and his death were honorable. To fight until the very end, to refuse to give up: that is true honor. 

You are not the only one who has walked into death’s arms and been so tempted to remain there. I’m sure you would recall the day on Namek when Frieza finally took my life. Would it have been easier to stay dead? I had passed the mantle on to you, Kakarot, to avenge our race. And, as loathe as I am to admit it, you did. 

But the fact that I was given a second chance, the chance to come back and live a new life, in a new place, without the burden of Frieza’s reign hanging over my head - how could I not have taken that opportunity? 

You are a fool for choosing death. More a fool than I ever could have imagined. You were not only a buffoon during life, but you are selfish in death as well. 

If I ever see you again - in this life or the next - I am going to end you as punishment for your stupidity, your wastefulness, your obliviousness. Every atom of you will be wiped out of the universe by my hand. Take this as a warning - and fucking stay dead. 

 

#  Letter #6

Kakarot,

I have been feeling the craving for battle again. It’s been so long that at first I did not recognize what that feeling was. For me, it is a long-awaited return to normalcy. 

It’s a shame that there is no one left to fight. Frieza is long gone; you’ve been gone for nearly as many years. The morons you once called your friends certainly offer no challenge, and our children are too young and unskilled to get into a good fight. 

So I’m left to train in the gravity chamber, fighting robots all day. 

However, recently I realized something. Bulma has the ability and the knowledge to build a space-capable ship. I could easily demand this of her, and she would fulfill my request, simply because she would cave in to her desire to meet a new challenge. I could leave this world. I could return to all of those planets that I once conquered or explored. I could find worthy opponents, enemies who could push me to my limits once again. I could probably even take down whatever is left of the Frieza Force and install myself as Emperor. 

So why don’t I? What the hell is keeping me here in this stasis? I feel as though I can't escape this place, like the atmosphere of this forsaken planet is a cage and I am trapped within. It sounds so easy, just to fly away. Was it easy for you? Did you feel relief, freedom? As before, Kakarot, you have done a thing I could not. Yet unlike before, I don't feel like I am right behind you, always trying to play catch-up. Unlike you, I don't want to flee. Unlike you, I don't want to die. 

I would say that makes me the true winner here. 


	2. Wishes

Bulma looked at Vegeta with an eyebrow dramatically raised.  _ "You  _ want to use the Dragon Radar? What could you possibly be wishing for?” 

“It’s none of your business, woman.” Vegeta resisted the urge to stomp his foot and make it an order. “Just give me the stupid radar.” 

Bulma scoffed. “In a hurry much? It just makes me want to take my time!” She stuck out her tongue and slowly strolled out of the room. 

Vegeta folded his arms and tapped his foot. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was in such a hurry. Ever since he had come up with the idea, he knew he would have to implement it as soon as possible before he talked himself out of it. A part of him suspected that the dragon wouldn’t even be able to grant the wish. 

Bulma returned and handed over the radar. “Can you at least tell me what you’re planning?” she asked, her voice cutting and annoying. 

“Sending some mail.” He turned and left the room. 

On the patio, he looked at the radar, seeing seven blinking dots on its small green display. The closest one was to the southwest. 

Bulma stepped out onto the patio right behind him. She lit a cigarette. 

“Smoke that thing downwind, will you?” 

“I swear to god, Vegeta, I never would have picked up this habit if you weren’t around all the fucking time.” 

“Tch.” Vegeta gave her a passing glance. “Don’t blame me for your weak will.” 

“No,” Bulma said, folding her arms and blowing smoke out of the side of her mouth. “I blame Goku for this shit. If he was still around you wouldn’t be up my ass all the time. And therefore I wouldn’t have taken up smoking.” 

“Why do you have to bring Kakarot into every goddamn conversation, woman?” Vegeta snarled. 

She ignored his question. “I don’t know what you’re up to with the Dragon Balls. But I want in.” 

“Goddamnit,” Vegeta muttered under his breath, rubbing his forehead. 

“You’re going to need me, you know.” Bulma jabbed a surprisingly painful elbow into the back of his ribs. “What, you’re thinking you’re just going to zoom around the planet, grab a ball here and a ball there, and bring them all home in one day, easy peasy?” 

“Collecting a bunch of balls is not going to be one of my greatest challenges,” Vegeta said between gritted teeth. 

“In my experience,” Bulma said, ashing her cigarette over the side of the balcony, “there is always at  _ least  _ one ball at the bottom of the ocean. How’re you gonna get  _ that  _ one?” 

“You realize Saiyans are superior than humans at a lot of things? Including swimming and holding their breath?”

“Whatever.” Bulma finally put out her cigarette, then with lightning fast speed snatched the Dragon Radar from Vegeta’s unsuspecting hands. “Come along, dear!”

Vegeta shuddered. This was meant to be a solo mission, but Bulma had a way of inserting herself into everything in his life.  _ And she blames my presence for her own problems?  _ Vegeta knew by now there was no saying no to this woman. This was, after all, how he had ended up helping her raise their half-breed child and living in her house for the past several years. Strong-willed was a poor descriptor for Bulma; “immovable object” would be more apt. 

Of course Bulma had to take some extra time grabbing snacks and a change of clothes and saying goodbye to Trunks and her parents and patting the cat on the head - and then finally the two of them climbed into her ship and took off into the evening sky. 

She insisted on piloting the ship, which was fine with Vegeta, because then he had some time to think. While the process of collecting the Dragon Balls was an inconvenience, it would at least give him the much-needed opportunity to meditate on the importance of patience. After all, it had been over six years since Kakarot’s death. What was one more day? 

The letters were folded neatly in his pocket, all seven of them. They had been an exercise in complete self-indulgence - a culmination of all of his rage at Kakarot, written down on paper to release them from the confines of his mind. Sometimes even training until he passed out wasn’t enough to exorcise those demons. 

The last letter had been the worst. He had held onto those words for so long before finally spilling them out in a disjointed ramble of hate and love, puked onto the page in a frenzy in barely legible handwriting. He hated seeing them in his bedside drawer every day, so he had tried to hide them from himself. But then he couldn’t stop thinking about them. “Out of sight, out of mind” seemed to have the opposite effect on him. The letters weighed on him constantly, just like his memories of their intended recipient. 

He wanted rid of these letters. He wanted to move on with his life. But it wouldn't be cathartic enough to simply burn them or tear them into pieces. No - he had a better idea.  By sending them away, maybe he’d be able to accept that Kakarot really was gone. 

Despite his animosity toward the rest of the living beings on this planet, he had to admire Bulma for her younger self's ingenuity. The Dragon Radar expedited the process of collecting the balls so efficiently that Vegeta almost found it unfair that one human would be able to possess such a powerful creation and casually keep it inside her house. 

Just as Bulma predicted, two of the balls were in the ocean, a couple on top of mountains at opposite ends of the planet, and several others scattered around in various forests and swamps. Bulma started off the journey by chattering about her latest new invention and research, but when she realized Vegeta was not in a listening mood, she started blasting some music and singing along loudly instead. Vegeta couldn’t decide which was more annoying.  

Toward dawn, she landed the ship neatly on an island not far from that perverted old man Master Roshi’s home. 

“This is the last Dragon Ball,” Bulma said. “Do you want to summon Shenron right here once we track it down?”

“The sooner we get this over with, the better,” Vegeta grunted as he stepped out of the ship. He looked around. The island seemed familiar. A bitter memory resurfaced; here was where he had goaded Cell on to reach his perfect form. He smirked at the stupid irony. 

Bulma was already chasing the final blinking light on the radar, walking right toward a cliff as they both realized that yet another ball was in the water. 

“It should be right off the edge of this cliff. Vegeta, go down there and get that ball, would you?” Bulma asked with fake sweetness in her voice. 

WIthout a word, Vegeta leapt into the water, slipping between two craggy rocks and sinking quickly. It felt surprisingly pleasant, being bathed in the cool ocean water, and for a moment he felt tempted to take off his armor and jumpsuit. Then he remembered the letters in his pocket, protected by his suit, and opted to stay dressed. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a glimmer. Swimming toward it, he saw that the ball was lodged between two rocks on the ocean floor. He shot a blast through the water and one of the rocks exploded, freeing the Dragon Ball from its confines. 

Bulma was smoking again, standing on the edge of the cliff and staring over toward the pink and orange sunrise. 

“Kinda pretty, huh?” 

“Hm.” Vegeta tossed the four-star Dragon Ball to the ground with the others where Bulma had laid them out. 

“Well? Are you ready?” Bulma was at his side now. 

Vegeta opened the front of his jumpsuit and took the letters out. He shuffled through them slowly, seeing bits and pieces of the words he had written on them over the years. 

“That’s the so-called mail you were talking about?” Bulma’s face slid into his periphery, nosy as ever. 

“Mind your business and summon the dragon, woman.” 

Bulma dropped her cigarette to the ground and put it out with the tip of her shoe. Then she stood over the seven Dragon Balls and raised her arms into the air. 

“Eternal Dragon Shenron! We summon you!” 

The Dragon Balls began to glow. A strange sound emitted from them, ear-piercing and otherworldly. The atmosphere grew dark. Black clouds obscured what moments before had been a peaceful morning sky. The balls became surrounded in yellow light, out of which sprung the body of a green dragon. All shimmering scales and reflected light, he uncoiled himself from another dimension, growing taller and taller until his immense body suspended over them, a true force of nature. 

The dragon’s eyes glowed red as he towered over Vegeta and Bulma. 

“I am the Eternal Dragon. State your three wishes.” 

Shenron’s voice seemed to be an amalgamation of voices, loud and powerful and certainly terrifying for anyone who had not heard it before. Vegeta could not deny that the dragon was always a sight to behold. He stepped forward and his words caught in his throat. 

Bulma placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You better tell him your wish. He gets impatient pretty easily.” 

Vegeta held out the letters. “Dragon,” he called, “I need you to deliver these letters to Kakarot in Other World.” 

Shenron did not respond right away, and for a moment Vegeta was convinced that his wish would be impossible. 

Finally, the dragon spoke. “That wish is well within my power.” 

Vegeta hesitated. “Hold on.” He shuffled through the letters until he found the last one. He pulled it out of the pile and returned it to his pocket. “Here are six letters for Kakarot.” 

The letters began to glow, and that eerie sound returned, seemingly the manifestation of the dragon’s immense power. Suddenly the letters faded from his hand. 

“Your wish has been granted. You may state your second wish.” 

“That was my only wish,” he said. He turned to look at Bulma. 

He was surprised to see a tear streaming down Bulma’s cheek. She wiped it away, embarrassed. 

“I didn’t really have anything in mind--” 

“You should wish for him to make you stop smoking.” 

Bulma bristled, and for a moment Vegeta thought she was going to slap him. “Shut the fuck up, Vegeta.” 

“Do you have any other wishes or not?” the dragon demanded, his voice booming like thunder. 

“Shenron…” Bulma shoved Vegeta out of the way and stepped forward. “Can you tell us how Goku is doing up there? Is he okay?” 

The dragon paused once again. “The one called Goku has been training and growing stronger,” Shenron replied. “He is well.” 

“That’s not very informative, but okay,” Bulma muttered. 

“Goddamnit, woman,” Vegeta hissed. “I don’t want to know how the idiot is doing.” 

“Sure, whatever.” Bulma clasped her hands together. “Thank you, Shenron. You know, Vegeta wouldn’t mind if you made him a little taller…” 

“Shut up!” Vegeta hollered. “Dragon, we are done with wishes for today. Goodbye.” 

“WAIT! Vegeta, go in the ship. I have a private wish I need to make.” 

“You couldn’t give me any privacy for my wish!” Vegeta shouted. Nevertheless, he didn’t really care what it was Bulma had to wish for. He walked toward the ship. 

As he sat and waited for Bulma, he pulled out the last letter. At the final moment, he had decided that Kakarot didn’t need to read this one. Quite frankly, the bastard didn’t deserve it. Vegeta had written it a few months ago, and he had read it every day since. The words on it had been so private, so secret, something that he had buried and buried for years and years. In all of the anger swarming in his mind, sometimes one of these bubbles would surface, a bubble in which he had trapped all of his feelings for the idiot Saiyan who had changed his life. And when the bubble popped, he was overwhelmed by memories that made him smile, despite himself. 

But the anger was stronger now. After all, in his mind, anger and hate and bitterness held more power than foolish, affectionate memories and nostalgia and love. By sending the letters, he knew he would be able to embrace that side of himself, and grow ever stronger for it. 

The sky had cleared up, and Vegeta watched out the window as the Dragon Balls ascended into the sky and scattered to all ends of the globe. 

Bulma rejoined Vegeta on the ship. She looked different but Vegeta couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

“I didn’t know you still thought much about Goku,” Bulma said quietly as she started the ship’s engine. 

“Can it, woman. It’s over now. I’m done thinking about that buffoon.”

“He was my friend too, you know. I miss him too.” 

Vegeta looked Bulma in the face. She again had tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Kakarot was never my friend, and I don’t miss him,” Vegeta said, his voice laced with ice. “And if I  _ ever  _ see him again, I guarantee you I will end his life  _ for good _ .” 

Bulma wiped her eyes. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” 

As Bulma piloted the ship into the sky, Vegeta opened the door. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not supposed to open the doors in flight,” Bulma said with a sigh. 

Vegeta let the seventh letter flutter out of his gloved hands and drift away in the wind. 


	3. Epilogue

#  Letter #7

You died, and I vowed to never fight again. 

It wasn’t merely because I lost my greatest challenge. And I suppose I could not have ever called you a friend, so it wasn’t that either. 

(The only reason I can write these words down now is because you’re dead - six long years dead.)

I was in love with you, Kakarot. 

It’s that simple, yet that bewildering. It’s something I only realized recently, as I made the connections after looking back at years of despising you. Hate and love - they can be so deceptively similar. 

What was there to love in you, anyway? Your buffoonish behavior? Your intentional naivety and stupidity? Your penchant for playing with your enemies until you’ve given them too many chances to kill you? Your inability to connect with anyone around you because you were too busy fighting and training? 

I suppose we had some of those flaws in common. 

I know I will never see you again, but sometimes I still see you in my dreams. I used to only have dreams about all the fucked up things I’ve done. So when I have dreams about you, it’s like having a pleasant memory for once. 

Could you have ever loved me, Kakarot? Someone whose goal in life was to kill you - who still wants to kill you? 

I think I know the answer. You are a forgiving moron and you have shown it again and again. It's even harder because of that. Because maybe I did have a chance. Maybe you could have loved me. 

But I'll never have that chance again. 

Goodbye, Kakarot. 


End file.
